One of Those Days
by Shayney
Summary: Harry has one of those days.


One Of Those Days

**Rating: ** G   
**Codes:** K, P   
**Date Posted:** 11 December 1999   
**Summary:** It's one of those days for Harry. 

Spoilers for "Thirty Days," I guess. 

Characters and situations owned by Paramount/Viacom. Used without permission. No copyright infringement intended. 

  


**One Of Those Days**

by [Shayney][1]

  


Harry was running late. He wasn't sure if the computer had malfunctioned or he'd just slept through his wakeup alarm, but he had only a few minutes to shower, dress, and get to the bridge. He hurried to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went. 

Drat. The sonic shower wasn't working this morning. Maybe there _was_ something wrong with the computer. He'd call it into Engineering once he got to the bridge. He got into water shower instead. It seemed to be working fine, thank heaven, spraying him with warm suds. It was only when he tried to rinse off that things went wrong. Instead of clear, clean water, the rinse was...brownish. And fragrant. He yelled in disgust, which of course meant some of the brown water got in his mouth. No, it wasn't sewage, he realized. It was...soup. Chicken bouillon, by the taste. 

He recognized the prank immediately. It was a popular one at the Academy: programming someone's shower to deliver soup instead of water. Well, better soupy than soapy. He rinsed off in the soup shower, then stepped out. He could try to shower somewhere else, but he didn't have time. Maybe he could just report in late...no, today was the weekly staff meeting, first thing in the morning. He couldn't miss that. There was nothing to do but dry off and get dressed. Hopefully no one would notice he'd been souped. 

# # # # # #

"Rough night, Ensign Kim?" the captain asked as he entered the briefing room. He was the last one to arrive, and he knew he looked a bit bedraggled. The soup had matted his hair, and he couldn't quite get it combed right. 

"No, ma'am," Harry said. He didn't want the captain to know someone had been playing pranks on him. She'd think he couldn't get along with his shipmates. 

Harry took the nearest seat, next to Tom, and tried to concentrate on the meeting. B'Elanna gave him a funny look, wrinkling her nose. Yikes, could she smell him from across the table? Probably; she was half-Klingon. Harry felt his face grow hot. 

Tom leaned toward him, sniffing. "New cologne, Harry?" he asked softly. 

"No," Harry said, looking at Tom suspiciously. The man _was_ inordinately fond of practical jokes. 

"You smell like...." Tom sniffed again. "Chicken soup." He grinned. "Just like mom used to make." 

Harry scowled. Either Tom was responsible, or he knew who was. Harry did his best to ignore his supposed best friend for the rest of the briefing. 

After the staff meeting ended, Harry took his station at Ops. The previous shift had been perfectly routine, as this one looked to be. They were traveling through a phenomenally boring section of space. He squirmed, feeling uncomfortably sticky. The pungent, spicy odor of the soup rose from his skin and hair, tickling his nose. He'd have to use his lunch break to get a real shower somewhere. The tickle in his nose grew stronger, and Harry realized he was going to sneeze. He tried to stifle it, but it was too late. 

Tuvok noticed, of course. "Ensign Kim. Your failure to control such trivial reflexes shows a lack of discipline which is most regrettable in an officer of your rank." 

"Yes, sir," Harry said, through gritted teeth. He wanted to sneeze again, but ruthlessly suppressed the urge, biting hard on his tongue. It was going to be a long morning. 

# # # # # #

Harry practically bolted for the turbolift when it was time for lunch break. Tom followed, sticking to him like glue. "Aren't you coming to the mess hall, Harry?" he asked when the lift stopped on deck two. 

"No." 

"Aw, come on." 

"No." 

Tom persisted. "I hear Neelix has made a _lovely_ soup." 

At that point, Harry gave in to his undisciplined reflexes and sneezed explosively. Serve Tom right if he got sprayed. 

Tom wasn't at all fazed, though. He leaned even closer, putting his arm around Harry solicitously. "What's the matter? Too much pepper in the soup?" 

Harry elbowed him sharply in the ribs, forgoing any pretense of civility. Tom backed off, laughing. "Grumpy, aren't we?" 

He gave Tom a withering glare and shoved him out of the turbolift. Harry continued to deck four, heading for Tom's quarters. He'd use his friend's shower, until he had a chance to de-soup his own. 

Suspicious, he ran the water for awhile. It looked and smelled like ordinary water. He threw his uniform in the fresher, then got in the shower. God, but it felt good to wash the soup residue away, to finally feel clean again. He stood under pounding spray, eyes shut, reveling in the sensation. What a morning. Though now that it was over, he could see the funny side of it.... 

He was just starting to relax when he opened his eyes - and got the shock of his life. Everything was green. Bright, fluorescent, eye-searing green. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thought it was a coolant leak. But it didn't smell like coolant, and he realized it was just dye in the shower water. Probably the very same dye they used to color coolant, as a toxicity warning. He shut the water off as quickly as possible, but it was too late. His skin was noticeably green. 

Tom's sonic shower worked, but it didn't do much to subdue the green color. Harry peered into the bathroom mirror unhappily. The Doctor could probably give him some kind of solvent that would take off the color, but he didn't have time to go to sick bay. He could call in sick, he supposed, but he really wasn't sick. He was just the victim of a practical joker who knew him all too well. 

Sighing, Harry got dressed. At least he was clean now. 

The bridge was unusually crowded when Harry got there. Just his luck. Even B'Elanna was there, at the Engineering station. She giggled like a schoolgirl when she caught sight of him. He'd have found it charming if it had been someone else she was laughing at. 

And it got better. Tom was leaning against the Ops console, waiting for him. "Harry, you okay?" he said with mock concern. "You, uh, look a little green around the gills." 

"Funny, Tom," Harry whispered. "What did I ever do to you, anyway?" 

Tom ignored the question. "You know, Har, I think green's your color." 

Captain Janeway turned around before he could answer. Her eyes widened. "Mr. Kim." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"My ready room. Now." 

Harry went, noticing with trepidation that Chakotay was coming, too. Man, he was really in trouble. 

Chakotay and Janeway sat at the table. Harry stood at attention in front of them. 

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Kim?" Janeway asked. 

"Nothing, Captain," Harry replied. There was no way he would rat on his best friend Tom, no matter how tempting it was. 

"Nothing, Ensign?" Chakotay pressed. 

"No, sir." 

There was a long silence. "Well," Janeway said finally. "I was going to say that you're no longer the green young ensign you once were, but..." She broke off, laughing. 

"Harry," the commander said. "At ease. You got off light, as promotional pranks go." 

"Wh-what?" 

Janeway smiled. "The prank is supposed to wait until after the official announcement, but Ensign Paris is ever the nonconformist." She held out a PADD. Confused, Harry took it. 

_....effective stardate 53351.2, Harry S.L. Kim is promoted to the rank of lieutenant junior grade...._

He read it again, and it finally sunk in. He was...being promoted? "Captain!" 

"You've done a fine job, Harry," Janeway said. "Keep up the good work. Now go back to your station...Lieutenant." 

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." 

In a daze, Harry went back out onto the bridge - and got a standing ovation. Obviously, they'd all been waiting for this. Even Tuvok looked...well, less grim than usual. Harry just stood there, grinning like an idiot. 

Tom rushed up to him, vaulting the railing in his enthusiasm. Unable to find any words, Harry showed him the PADD he still held. Tom gave it a cursory glance, plainly already knowing what it said. "It's about time," he said, beaming with pride and delight. He grabbed Harry and ruffled his hair. "Congratulations...sir." 

  
  
[Visit Shayney's Webpage][2]

   [1]: mailto:ShayneyL@aol.com
   [2]: http://members.aol.com/ShayneyL/



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